


Back from the Edge

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Stargent - Fandom, Stetopher - Fandom, Teen Wolf (TV), steter - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Chris Argent Feels, Chris Argent Switches, Chris Argent-centric, Cohabitation, Come Eating, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Fisting, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Licking, Love Bites, M/M, Masturbation, Peter is a good werewolf, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spit Kink, Stiles Stilinski was emotionally hurt in the past, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncut Peter Hale, ass eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 09:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16037525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: So a hunter, a human, and a werewolf fall in love. Chris wakes early one morning and reminisces on his past, on what led him to move in with Peter and Stiles. When he's done showering he accidentally wakes Stiles, taking him to the spare room for some morning "fun." When things get out of hand, Peter wakes and joins them. A lot of smut for three horny men.





	Back from the Edge

5:30 a.m. is a quiet time. The world still slumbers, (well, maybe except for birds. Those magnificent but annoying creatures always have a song to sing, a story to tell, and they want EVERYONE to know about it).

5:30 a.m. It’s more or less dark out. Since moving to Peter's country home, the lack of city lights makes the difference. Some days Chris Argent returns from his run and the smallest blotch of the sun’s rebirth appears in the sky. Other times he can barely make out the keyhole on the door from how pitch it is.  
  
Chris has never been one to shy from sleep, but since the death of his wife, and the loss of his precious Allison, he just couldn’t properly rest. His soul was uneasy and his body weary. Mentally he was shattered. The long days rolled over into even longer nights, and all his demons rattled their chains in his brain, keeping him tossing and turning in an empty, cold bed. His life was pain and misery. It was a desperate, hopeless time.  
The self-pity was addictive and Chris wallowed in it. He drank himself into stupors, only to wake a handful of hours later with a hangover and a new bruise on his face. That’s how he lived until he found Peter and Stiles.  
  
What an unlikely pairing. One had been an enemy, the other his daughter’s friend. “This is the last thing I thought would happen,” he muses as the hot water hits his toned back. His head is hung between strong arms, the jet massaging his sore shoulders. Chris is definitely back in shape and healthy.  
Indeed, though his reawakening was a slow process, the union of the three men sped things along. Each invaded the other’s gravity under different guises, but with two common goals: companionship and sexual satisfaction.  
If someone had told Chris Argent a year ago that he would be living with- and more to the point- sleeping in the same bed with two men, he would have probably laughed in their face. And yet here he is. He’s a man who has two lovers.  
It’s something to think about, how rapidly he unraveled after his daughter’s death and how equally swift the affection of these men dragged him back into the light.  
  
6 months since the first drunken time he fell into Peter Hale’s comforting arms. Both thought it would be a one-off. They fucked again the next night and the one after that. Something within wouldn’t allow them to separate.  
The “problem” initially was that Peter was already mated with Stiles. Ever since his nephew Derek had taken off, Stiles’ heart the casualty, the boy was a drifting soul, hooked on werewolf love. Finding solace in another Hale’s arms was almost too easy, and Peter had been biding his time from the beginning. He had a soft spot for the boy with doe honey eyes and a smart mouth.  
_Oh the things that mouth could do, too._  
Peter’s indiscretion was easily forgiven. Stiles wasn’t jealous when he found out. He was a horny young man who wanted in on his boyfriend’s side piece, though. That was the pact.  He had always liked Mr. Argent and would be insane if he didn’t admit he found him incredibly attractive.  
  
Chris chuckles to himself as he washes the soap from his eyes. That’s what he called him the first time Peter officially brought him home. “Hey there, Mr. Argent.”  
It only took a few days before Chris slept with Stiles. The brunette had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night, warm and soft and smelling of cookie dough. Stiles pleaded with him to make him forget all the terrible things that had happened. He wept over all the suffering that had transpired and forgot himself when his curled fingers fought their way into Chris’ pajama pants.  
The hunter recalls the buildup… holding him, the feel of his taut body melting into his as he kissed away the boy’s tears. Initially the only sound was of their breathing. Stiles shifted beside him, the heat from his erection warm against Chris’ chillier skin. His beard left a red mark on Stiles’ flawless chin as their lips grazed and mouths hollowed until the hunter whimpered and gave in completely. Chris’ eyes asked permission and the hand guiding the man’s fingertips to Stiles’ opening granted it.

Their lovemaking was slow and tender. Stiles nipped at his long neck, licked his spectacular hairless chest. Chris kissed him anywhere his hungry mouth would reach as he rolled his hips and bore into the boy.  
Being inside Stiles was very different from fucking Peter. The latter was older, a wolf, and thus much more aggressive. He ran hot and fucked hard. There wasn’t very much romance in their mating, and that’s not what Chris was looking for, anyway. Well, at least not from Peter.  
But with Stiles… Stiles was sweet. Funny. Loyal. He had proved that time and time again.  
And the sex... oh God. Though sometimes he liked it rough, usually he craved physical contact like it was the air he breathed. Stiles coveted the feel of flesh, wanted to be held and worshipped. Everything Derek Hale had never given him.  
And that’s exactly what Chris was ready to offer.  
That first time they came, they exploded together. Completely unplanned but so powerful that they lay trembling in a tangled mess of secretions and silk sheets.  
The next morning at breakfast, Peter Hale just smiled smugly to himself. He didn’t mention waking up alone, nor did he point out that Chris’s neck was painted with love bites. His wolf sense had woken him when his love left the room, and the moaning that followed only confirmed his suspicion. To give them privacy, he listened to music until he fell back asleep.  
Stiles’ smile when he came down from showering was all Peter had needed to see. That same night Chris was invited into their bed and never slept in the spare room again.  
Two months in, Chris was given his own keys, a closet, and a permanent welcome to stay with them. Peter and Stiles invested in a king-sized bed because they knew neither would ever kick Chris out of theirs.  
So yes. It has been an interesting ride.  
  
Chris’ sea eyes look back at him in the mirror as he dries off. He looks happy. Feels lighter. Definitely a different person from the one he watched destroy himself only half a year ago.  
He fishes around in his bag and while looking for his toothbrush, a small bottle of one of Peter’s face creams drops into the sink. (The wolf is very vain).  
“Shit,” Chris exclaims. He’s trying to be as quiet as possible so he doesn’t wake the guys.  
  
The towel wrapped around his slim waist keeps slipping and so he re-knots it. As he does so, he peeks through the crack in the door of the master bathroom. Two lumps occupy the bed. One is dead to the world while the other shifts nervously. He knows which is which.   
Stiles stares back at him from within Peter Hale’s embrace. He raises his hand to shield himself from the sliver of light penetrating the room. He smacks his ruby lips and rubs at the morning erection pressed into his stomach.  
Chris grins to himself, thinking “You are so adorable, Stiles.”  
The brunette waves. “Babe, why are you up so early?” he says groggily.  
Chris touches his index finger up to his full lips, making the “Shhh” gesture. Stiles glances over his shoulder to the wolf spooning him from behind. He’s snoring just the slightest bit, dark brown hair a tousled nest.  
The hunter points to the spare room across the hall, and Stiles nods. “He’s fast asleep, but I’m coming…,” he utters, slipping quietly from out of Peter’s cocoon.  
The wolf mumbles something in his sleep and rolls over.

Chris, one hand on Stiles’ shoulder, follows him out so they don’t disturb the slumbering wolf. Peter can be very grumpy when he doesn’t get his rest.  
As soon as they are out of earshot (well, as much as they can be to a werewolf), Chris pulls Stiles to him by the collar of his t-shirt. The younger has an exemplary case of bed head, eyes small beads of cinnamon as his sight still adjusts.  
“Morning, sunshine,” Christopher angles in, placing his mouth over Stiles’. The tip of his tongue seeks to push between the brunette’s lips.  
Stiles stiffens, finger rubbing the corner of his mouth. “Babe, I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” Stiles frowns.  
“So?” Chris replies, his wide grin magnetic. “I want my morning sugar, _sugar_.”  
Stiles gives in. Of course. Their tongues dance, Stiles’ fingers carded into the hunter’s as he breathes in his scent. Chris, freshly showered, smells like rain. He trimmed his beard this morning and even moisturized. (The hunter totally helped himself to Peter Hale’s metrosexual skin care products).

Stiles pulls off, sniffs his shirt and decides he smells like a guy who had sex with his two boyfriends last night. “Let me shower, baby” the brunette begs. His long fingers find a gap between Chris’ stomach and the towel. “Unless… you’ve got something better in mind?” Stiles draws out the question with a smirk on his rose lips.  
“You mean something for which you’d have to shower again, anyway?” Chris’ deep voice resonates in his chest, green eyes sparkling.  
“Yeah, precisely.” Stiles bites into his bottom lip, tugging on the towel until it falls. The hunter wraps his powerful arms around the boy, the desire to feel his body pressed into his overwhelming him. More than evident is the hard-on straining between them.  
Stiles has one hand splayed on Chris’s sculpted chest, the other snakes down to his perfect right ass cheek.  
“Fuck I want you, Chris,” he groans.  
  
The hunter is already leading him to the spare bed. “Lie back,” he commands. Stiles obeys.  
He smiles slyly as he steps out of his pants, falling backwards onto the mattress as he tosses the t-shirt. Chris’ attention is focused on the tiny stripe of hair that sprouts from beneath his belly button and leads down to the boy’s already hardened member. Stiles is cut, and the bowed cock shines with pre-cum. It's impressive how beautiful it is.   
  
“Oh fuck,” Chris mutters, moistening his lips. “I don’t know whether I want to fuck you or eat you out.”  
Stiles raises both hands, mimicking a balance. “How about a lot of the first and a little of the second?” He bats his long lashes.   
“Oh yes. Wonderful idea.”  
  
Chris lowers himself onto his knees, pulling Stiles’ legs to the edge and over the tops of his muscular shoulders. Long swipes of his tongue up the boy’s creamy thighs map a route to his hole.  
Chris licks from Stiles’ heavy, downy balls down to the pucker, his capable tongue scalding against the muscle.  
“Mmm,” he hums.  
“Fuck, Chris…FUCK…” Stiles mews, the hunter’s tongue oscillating as he’s ravaged from the outside. “Please put it in. Stop teasing me.”  
Chris jounces in Stiles’ cleft, the ribbed tissue clenching on his muscle as he finally tongue fucks him. Sheets bunch under Stiles’ tightening fists, the younger’s bottom springing against Chris’ moist face.  
  
“More, Chris…please. Push it in more.”  
Chris goes nose deep, and the boy jerks.  
“Oh God yes,” Stiles shouts, forgetting about the sleeping wolf next door.  
The hunter’s cock is pulsating like a wound that needs tending. Eating Stiles’ ass always turns him on to no end.  
“I need to be inside you, Stiles,” a slick-faced Chris Argent grunts as he comes up for air. His golden skin glistens with sweat, accentuating his every groove and mound.  
“Do it, baby. Please. Fuck me.” Stiles pleads, eyes blown in desire.  
  
Legs wrap around Chris’ waist, not before he inserts his throbbing dick into Stiles’ gaping hole. Use of condoms stopped when all three men decided to be exclusive and the humans got tested. It made these unexpected encounters so much easier.  
“Agh,” the boy squeaks when Chris slams him into the wall, legs spread for balance. Stiles’ back strikes the divider with every thrust, a painting swinging along to their time.  
“Fuck, yes..” Chris bottoms out, his thick shaft dragging his skin as he drills into his lover. Long, piercing shoves alternate with shorter, more upturned ones.  
From behind closed eyes, Stiles wails a litany. “Fuck fuck fuck…”  
“So hot, so tight,” the hunter laments. “You‘re so fucking sexy, Stiles,“ Chris leads himself to climax, teeth clenched as skin slaps skin.  
  
A figure shadows the doorway a moment later. The moaning and groaning and the thudding wall has woken Peter Hale. His arms are crossed over his massive chest. He’s wearing nothing but a smile, an enormous uncut cock in full salute against his belly.  
“You boys never call me when there is early morning fun.”  
  
Stiles takes a break from jerking himself off and motions for Peter to come over. Chris is close, literally pounding Stiles’ asshole. He slows a second to give Peter a sloppy kiss as he walks over, their tongues out as they lick each other.  
Peter samples Chris’ and winks. “You ate Stiles out. I can taste his asshole on you. Yum.”  
“You are so dirty, baby” Chris pants.  
"I know..."   
“I’m so fucking close, Pete. So close.”  
  
Stiles rebounds and the wall shakes repeatedly. “Ugh babe, join in. Please.” Peter considers it a microsecond before tracing a circle onto Chris' bicep. He’s already aching for it and his morning wood is impressive.  
  
“Fuck, you both look so hot right now.” Peter reaches between his legs and twists over the sensitive skin at his dick’s base. His thumb spreads the droplets of pre-cum over the pulsating shaft.  
“Shit,” he hisses. “I don’t want to wait my turn. Bend your ass back a little, Chris. I wanna fuck you from behind.”  
  
“Awww holy god,” Stiles breaks apart at the words, fireworks exploding behind his lids. “You asshole!”  
Peter chuckles. He knows that his filthy thoughts always make Stiles disintegrate. Indeed, the brunette’s dick twitches in his fist and he jets cum all over his dark chest hair.  
“Fuck that’s hot,” the wolf growls. Peter takes advantage, sniffing him from Stiles’ arm up to the clavicle. His wide tongue flattens as he licks Stiles clean, offering it to suck on when he’s collected.    
Peter spits some cum into his lover’s waiting mouth.  
  
“You filthy little boy,” Peter nuzzles into him. He bites a dark purple mark when he reaches his nipple. “Such a cumwhore.”  
“Oh baby, fuck…” Stiles grabs for him, swallowing his release. “I wanna see you fuck Chris. Do it for me baby.”  
Chris slowed his rhythm, entranced by Peter’s grooming of Stiles. “I’m going to bust any second now, Peter. Please. Stick your fist up my ass.”  
  
Stiles’ eyes light up and Peter snarls. “Put the boy on the bed and fuck him flat. It’ll be easier for me to do it from that position.”  
Chris almost cums at the idea it’s so fucking exciting. Without slipping out, he carries Stiles back to the bed, bending his body over his lover’s and spreading his legs.  
  
“Hurry, Pete. Fuck.” Peter disappears for a second and returns with a bottle of lube. While Chris twists himself in deeper and deeper into Stiles, the clench just right, Peter coats his hand in the gel and squirts some on Chris’ pucker. It lazily drips between his cheeks and some gets on the floor below.  
  
“We could have moved to the big bed, Chris,” Peter complains.  
“FUCK PETER, stop being such a perfectionist and fist me already!” The hunter’s breathing is labored from exertion and lust.  
“Okay, okay sunshine. Calm down." He kisses him softly. "I’m going in.”  
  
Stiles strains his head to the side. “Oh fuck I wish I could see all of it,” Stiles bellows, voice hiccupy as Chris’ hammering becomes relentless.  
Peter folds his hand and circles the hole, pushing past the sphincter. The fingers are the first to disappear and when he gets to the knuckles that’s when Chris really feels it.  
“OOOHH GOD YES PETER… ALL THE WAY!” he screams.  
  
“Oh shit, Chris,” Stiles cries. “So hot. Put in more, Peter. More.”  
Peter insists, a squishy sound around his hand as it’s swallowed whole by Chris’ anus.  
“JESUS FUCK PETER,” the hunter pants.  
  
Peter’s cock is lit now, and with his free hand he violently jerks it from the base to the crown. He kneads when he gets close to the top, exhaling loudly.  
He wants to come with Chris if he can. Even Stiles is hard again and rubbing his glans.  
  
“Come for me, Chris. Come for Peter. I want all of us to bust together.”  
Once Peter has picked up on Chris’ speed, he pumps his hand into the hunter until well past the wrist, Chris dripping sweat and face in a grimace of ecstasy.  
"Yes, baby, yes. Like that..."  
The room is filled with the sound of slapping skin, suction, and the loud lamentations of three grown men on the verge of exploding.  
  
It doesn’t last long. In very quick succession, all of them orgasm.  
Chris is the first but by seconds.  
“FUCK OH FUCKING GOD,” he wails, semen splashing the insides of Stiles as his own asshole clamps onto Peter’s forearm. The peak hits like an earthquake and Peter's limb is drawn in further by the cinch, nothing but that empty heat on his flesh.   
When the wolf realizes how hard Chris has come, he twitches, immediately spurting his rich load onto the back of Chris’ thigh with a loud howl. It coagulates as it cools, running down the groove of the hunter's knee leaving a moist, milky trail.  
  
Stiles is the wrecked one. His dick is red from attrition, skin glistening with perspiration and his hickeys flush under his skin. His mouth is bright pink and swollen from all the biting.  
Stiles' dark hair mats to his face and Peter has just enough time to pull out of Chris with a resonant and slippery pop. His limb is wet with secretions and when Stiles spots it, he quivers into pleasure.  
"Oh jesus that is sooo hoooot..." The wolf’s mouth closes on Stiles’ slit right when he squirts.  
“Oh fuuuuckkk,” Stiles emits in a hoarse whisper. “Jesus fucking Christ!”   
Peter swallows him up, wiping his chin afterwards with the back of his "clean" hand.   
"I'm dead. Dead." The wolf's exemplary body is on fire.   
The men scramble onto the small bed, next to Stiles, the mattress dipping as their tired bodies relax into it. Peter’s head rests on Stiles’ left pec and Chris, chest heaving, has collapsed face down on Stiles’ stomach.  
“Oh my God,” Chris mumbles. “That was …”  
“Superlative?” Peter Hale finishes with a huge smile on his lips.   
  
Chris nods, shaking the boy with the movement of his head. “Yes. Superlative.” His backside is throbbing, but it's the most wonderful kind of pain.   
Stiles leans over and kisses Peter on his perfect mouth. Chris looks up, and then back down, resting his cheek to Stiles' tummy. "I love you both, you know."  
Peter's eyes crinkle in the corner, his baby blues bright with elation. "We love you, too, Hunter."  
Chris laughs, squeezing Peter's thigh. "I think you broke me, baby. Gonna have to check. You've never gone in that deep before."   
The wolf looks almost proud of himself. "It was all you, Chris. And then when you came, fuck. I thought you were going to pull me in to the elbow."  
"So hot," Chris mumbles, exhausted.   
Stiles looks like he is going to pass out. “You two are going to be the death of me,” he states matter-of-factly, a post-sex grin stamped on his adorable mug.  
Peter giggles and nods in agreement, nibbling on the boy's earlobe.  
“Probably. And what a pleasant death it will be, my love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Kudos and lovely comments are especially appreciated! <3 Thank you as always for following me down the rabbit hole!


End file.
